


Headed Toward Sunset

by endeni



Series: Red [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blanket Permission, Emperor Hux, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Post-Movie(s), Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 09:14:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6323599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endeni/pseuds/endeni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And when Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Headed Toward Sunset

Kylo is on the bed, naked. On his knees, hands on the headboard, back arched.

Behind him, Hux's warm hands are a steadying presence on the back of Kylo's tights, while Hux's beard is mercilessly scratching the sensitive skin of his buttocks, Hux's lips and tongue lavishing the tight circle of skin of Kylo's asshole. Licking, penetrating, devouring him.

Kylo fucking loves that beard, loves that the next day he's going to feel Hux at every movement he makes, loves that it means that Hux is no-one's man but his own now. He's the one in charge now, the one making the rules and dictating grooming standard. And he's the only man to whom those rules don't apply.

Kylo is so hard he's leaking on the sheets but he can't touch himself, not yet. His Emperor told him to put his hands on the headboard and leave them there and there they still are, the bars of the frame cracking under the grip of his metal hand.

Kylo's body is twitching and convulsing under Hux's ministrations but he's not moving his hands, not moving his hands, not moving-

And then, there are fingers.

One at first, slowly pushing in, accompanied by Hux's clever, wet tongue.

Hux gives him one last slow lick with the flat of his tongue that makes Kylo shudder all over and then pushes another finger in.

Slowly, oh, so slowly. Two fingers, sliding in and out, in and out. And then, one more, the lube making a low, obscene squelching sound, and, stars, it's so good. So good and yet not enough and just when Kylo is starting to feel he'll go mad if Hux doesn't just _move_ , Hux finally pulls back, removing his fingers and filling him with something larger and hotter and unyielding, stretching him, and it's too much, his vision blackens and Kylo is spurting all over the white linens, untouched.

Trembling, Kylo collapses back on the bed and lets Hux ride him at his leisure. Lets himself be used, revels in the sensation of Hux's hands clasped tightly on his hips, his cock stretching him, filling him up, the rhythmic, almost violent thrusts.

Then, the sound of explosions bursts into the air.

With a jolt, Kylo gets out of Hux's grip, lets Hux's wet cock slip out of him. He turns around, grips Hux by the arms and puts him on the floor next to the bed, covering him with his body, right on time for the shock-wave that a moment later shakes the whole building like in an earthquake.

Soon enough, stromtroopers burst through the door, only to come to an abrupt halt at the sight of their Emperor and the Master of the Knights of Ren lying naked on the floor.

Kylo ignores the troopers' half-terrified thoughts and Hux's indignant sputter (and the thought of the image he himself must cut: naked and mask-less in his Emperor's rooms) and runs to the window to watch. There are columns of smoke rising over the horizon.

On the comm, general Phasma is already barking orders, moving troops on the site of the explosions, trying to assess the situation: “...under attack? The planetary defenses seem to be undamaged...”

Kylo quickly collects his sword and puts on his trousers, turning around just enough to watch the troopers' extensive training take over. Hux, now swathed in a dressing gown, is being lead out of the room, escorted to a more secure location.

“...Accident...” the comm hisses. “...Two ships, collision curse…”

“I'll be with the Emperor,” he says into the comm and he's out of the room too, dodging panicked personal and moving to follow the troopers when he detects something through the Force.

 _Mother_.

He stops, a still island in a sea of frantic movement around him.

Something is going on with his mother.

Abruptly, he changes direction. As he runs, he takes out his comm: “It's a diversion, they want to free Organa! Converge to her location!”

 

  
By the time he reaches his mother's apartments (his mother's prison), two guards are lying unconscious outside the doors and dozens white uniforms are already clustered inside.

Still shirtless and barefoot, hair in complete disarray, Kylo strides forward. He's relieved to find his mother still inside, sitting quietly in a corner.

Next to her, two figures on their knees, hands tied behind their backs.

“Lord Ren, we just caught those bastards trying to release the prisoner,” a kick accompanies the trooper's words and the nearest captive kneels over in pain.

“Finn!” the other man cries out. “Leave him alone!”

Kylo turns toward the man. _Could that be?_

He kneels down, takes his face into his metal hand.

Except for the streaks of gray at his temples, it's almost a perfect déjà-vu of the last time he's met the man, down to the streaks of dirt and blood covering his face.

“The infamous Poe Dameron,” Kylo says, “leader of what's left of the so-called Resistance.”

Dameron stretches his lips into a defiant smile. Underneath, his teeth are caked with blood. “What's the matter,” he says, “couldn't find your way to the fresher this morning?”

Kylo is taken over by the overpowering need to choke the breath out of him.

“You're going to tell me the location of your base.” Kylo says instead, almost pleasantly. “In fact, you're going to tell me everything you know. If you recall, I can be very convincing.”

He watches with satisfaction Dameron's smile slowly crumble as a tremor of unease passes through the man. But not fear. Not yet.

“But I'm sure we won't need to resort to those methods, don't you agree?” Kylo nods to the trooper who kicked Dameron's friend and the man repeats his performance with gusto.

Dameron goes still at his friend's low moans of pain and, yes, there's the fear Kylo was waiting for.

“And I'm sure FN-2187 is very grateful for your friendship.”

Dameron takes a pained breath and slowly lowers his head in defeat.

For a moment, Kylo considers the idea of gifting the prisoners to his mother once he'd done.

It would be a shame to deprive Leia Organa of her pets. Especially after they came all this way to see her.

Then, he thinks of Hux, on the floor, his thin frame and pale, freckled skin, looking disoriented and frighteningly breakable.

“General Phasma,” he says into his comm. “Please relay to the Emperor that we captured Poe Dameron and we're on our way to the Palace.”

 

  
That night, Kylo retreats to his own barely-used rooms.

He checks the HoloNet. The brutal terrorist attacks at the heart of the Empire are on every channel: mothers sobbing while clutching their children, smoke and devastation behind them.

Kylo has to give it to Hux, he knows how to put on a show.

Not that anyone is going to forget the Hosnian System anytime soon, but fear can be a powerful motivator, Kylo knows it all too well.

In truth, the Resistance ships have only managed to hit a few disused buildings. There's been a single causality: an old woman who died from a heart attack brought on by the shock.

But that's not something the general public needs to know.

He watches the announcement of Dameron and FN-2187's execution, set for the following evening.

By then, the New Empire will have obliterated what little is left of the Resistance, the Imperial fleet is already preparing to leave for their base.

Kylo wonders if that was intentional on Hux's part.

A tired, half-hysterical laugh escapes him. _Of course it was._

Kylo closes the HoloNet connection, takes his face into his hands.

He thinks of a little girl, dead on the floor of her own house.

He thinks of the Hosnian system massacre, how at the time he'd been relieved to be assigned to his quest for the droid and Luke Skywalker.

He never had much taste for executions. He finds the notion of impersonal violence something of a paradox, offensive even. If you want someone dead you should at least have the courage to let their blood stain your hands.

“We won,” he says, testing the words out. They sound hollow to his hears.

With a tired sigh, he settles down on the bed.

Eventually, he falls into a restless sleep.

 

  
In his dreams, he sees his uncle.

Not the old, defeated man he was by the end, but the Jedi Master he still remembers from when he was fifteen, with close-cropped ash blonde hair and a short, tidy beard. The man his young self couldn't help but want. Just like he couldn't help craving his power for himself.  
  
Luke Skywalker isn’t looking at him with disgust now, but with regret and infinite sadness.  
  
Then, the image shifts and Kylo is looking at his mother. Her dead body is hanging from the ceiling of her sterile prison rooms, a coil of white sheet around her neck.  
  
Kylo wakes up with a start, his heart in his throat.

There's a man sitting on his bed, right next to him.

Kylo is already reaching for his lightsaber when the realization hits him.

It's _him_.

Dark robes, dirty blond hair, haunted eyes, a metal hand.

 _Why now_ , Kylo wonders, _he never came to me before, no matter how much I asked for it._

“You know why,” the blue-tinged presence answers. “Because, this time, if you do nothing, there's no-one else who can.”

The presence moves closer. “Because you saw what happens to her if you do nothing. Because you won't be able to forgive yourself afterward.” A small, sad smile. “Believe me, I know.”

 _Go away_ , Kylo wants to say, to scream. _Why, why would I listen to you now?_

He gets up, goes to the fresher and closes firmly the door behind himself, like that could offer him some measure of protection. He bends down over the sink to splash water on his face, trying to clear his head.

When he looks back into his room, the ghost is gone.

 _Maybe that was a dream too_ , Kylo thinks. _Or maybe I really lost my mind._

He goes back to the fresher and stares at himself in the mirror, looking without really seeing.

He can't get it out of his mind. His mother, hanging herself.

He thinks of this morning, the defeated expression in her eyes. _Could she really be capable of it?_

All her life, she's been stripped of everything she's loved. Maybe the question was: how much longer could she endure? When enough is enough?

He thinks of Hux, lying naked on the cold floor. So vulnerable without the armor of his uniform, his carefully arranged hair.  
  
Of course, Kylo had seen him naked before, but at the time they'd been in each other's arms, in a mutual disarmament. Hux had never looked so painfully fragile and exposed like he did this morning.

At that moment, Kylo could have set fire to the whole universe to see him safe.

Kylo's hands close into fists. Without conscious thought, he hits the transparisteel, hard. The mirror dents but fails to break like ordinary glass would. So Kylo punches it again and again, until he's made a bloodied mess of his flesh hand and his metal one has become stiff and unresponsive.

 _Maybe I should kill myself_ , he thinks.

 

  
Hours later, morning finds Kylo walking inside the throne room, obvious to his blood-spattered and crazed look.

The hall falls silent at his entrance.

Kylo comes to a halt before his Emperor. He goes down on one knee, looking down at the floor.

He takes a breath for courage.

“I'm sorry, my lord,” Kylo says with trembling voice, “I'm here to confess… to confess my shame. I've been... harboring thoughts of... treason. I... I realize now that my loyalty is irreversibly compromised. Please… please, my lord, you have to kill me. For I'm too much of a coward to do it myself.”

While he was talking, a slow, deep rumble spread through the crowd, gradually rising in volume until Kylo had to rise his own voice in order to be heard.

Kylo hadn't noticed at first, he'd been too deafened by the pulsing of his own blood into his ears. He's only realizing it now, as all sound ceases abruptly.

Kylo looks up to see his Emperor with his hand raised. His lips are pressed so tight they look almost bloodless. “Out,” he barks. “Everyone.”

The room clears immediately.

Kylo hears the doors close. Shameless, he takes it as permission to continue, because he has to say it all now, he probably won't get another chance.

“I… I know my mother will kill herself once she loses all hope. It won't be long. A vision showed it to me. And I know I couldn't bear it. Not that. As I couldn't bear the thought of you being hurt, my lord. Or dead, or worse. And thinking of joining her against you makes me wish to put my sword through my own chest.

But I'm a coward. I… I tried it. I couldn’t go through with it.

So, please, my lord, I beg you. Just… just kill me. Or… or have me killed. Do it slowly, do it painfully, you have every right. I just need to put an end to this… to this feeling of being _torn apart_. I-”

 _I'm sorry_ , he wants to say. And: _I love you, but I can't._

He finally falls silent.

There's a long, very long silence.

Kylo lowers his eyes again. For the first time in… days, weeks, maybe in ages, he feels… relief. Like he's finally able to breath.

He hears a rustle of cloth and Kylo looks up to see Hux taking out his comm.

“Bring me Organa,” Hux orders.

Kylo feels almost detached, like he's watching something on the HoloNet. Does Hux mean to let his mother witness his death?

Be as it may, Kylo has made his choice and nothing can erase that. Whatever his Emperor decides to do with him, with anyone else, there's nothing more that Kylo can do.

Just like those years ago, when Hux grabbed the power for himself and freed Kylo of his obligations in the process.

Kylo put himself again in the position of having lost everything. And having nothing more to lose as a consequence.

Soon enough, the Emperor is greeting his mother as she enters the room in Phasma's company

“Organa,” Hux says with a stiff nod. And then: “In about an hour I'll be stepping down as Galactic Emperor and naming you as my successor.”

Whatever his mother was expecting, it wasn't that. Her mouth opens into an unattractive slack-jawed stupor.

Kylo has no idea what might be written on his own face. No idea what this all means nor how it happened.

“My lor-” Kylo tries to speak, the words coming unbidden, but Hux is talking again.

“Understand,” Hux is looking at Phasma now, “without Kylo Ren's support there is no Empire: there will be nothing to stop the Jedi from rising and end our rule, just as it happened with the old Empire.

To be wise is to know when you're defeated and to control your fall when you find yourself without other options.

Personally, Organa, I find you an idealistic fool, just like your wretched Resistance, but you're by far the best possible choice among too many bad alternatives.” Hux pauses to purse his lips into a contemptuous expression. “I trust, I hope, this time there will be nothing of that Populist and Centrist nonsense and you'll do your best to keep at a minimum the chaos and infighting you'll have to face following my departure.”

“And, Phasma,” he continues, looking back at her, “I trust you'll work to ensure a peaceable and orderly transition.”

Phasma nods jerkily, her back ramrod straight: “My lord!”

“As for me, I'll take myself out of the equation, as I must,” Hux says, looking directly at Kylo this time. “Me and Kylo Ren will exile ourselves on some Outer Rim world or other, not be seen ever again. I trust you'll find those term satisfying, Organa. The reach of the previous Republic never extended over the Rim worlds. Neither does my own rule, even if I had several plans waiting to be put in motion,” he adds, almost wistful. “In fact, I trust you'll find freedom for both Ren and myself an acceptable exchange for the gift of the Empire I'm giving you. An hour from now, you'll even be in time to stop the assault on your base and the executions of your men, if you so wish,” Hux's smiling a little, deprecating smile now, as he steps down from the throne.

His mother is nodding in a silent, stunned acquiescence.

Then, Hux nods at him to follow, heading toward the doors. “General Phasma, please, see that all of my and Lord Ren's belongings be moved to a suitable ship.”

Still stunned, Kylo rises to follow when his mother steps forward, gripping him by the shoulder with one unsteady hand and then clutching him into a brief but tight hug.

 _Goodbye_ , Kylo thinks.

He lets go and turns to go after Hux.

 

  
Kylo looks out of the view-port.

Stormtroopers are assembled outside the Palace, line after line of precise formations, arms raised to say goodbye to their leader. Phasma, shining in her chrome armor, stands at the forefront. Next to her, Leia Organa looks deceptively small, her white dress lost amid all the white uniforms. It's a jarring image.

 _It's really happening_ , Kylo thinks.

Seated at his side, Hux launches the ship into the air.

Soon enough, they reach the outer atmosphere, far enough to make a jump to get out of the Coruscant system.

Kylo looks back at Hux then, who smiles, almost care-free, his old uniform already shed for a more anonymous ensemble.

 _Where to now?_ Kylo means to ask. But that's not what comes out of his mouth.

“That wasn't true. What you said before.”

Hux raises a single eyebrow. “I don't know what you're implying. I meant every word I said,” he replies.

“Yes,” Kylo says. “But that wasn't the _whole_ truth, was it? Just some explanation you fed the others.”

A pause.

“Why do you ask, Ren? Did you try to look into my head?”

Kylo lowers his eyes guiltily, “I-”

“Do you know why I have such good shielding?” Hux asks, almost lightly. “My father taught me. He thought having a strong, impassible mind was an essential quality for any officer of the Empire.

I learned the hard way. I was a model officer, I couldn't be otherwise.

I spent all my life trying to reach this point, to have the power for myself, the power to bring order to the galaxy.

But once you get what you wanted, you realize that your desires have changed, they always change.

Now that I have the galaxy, I don't want it if I can't have-” Hux pauses.

“Does it need saying?” he adds after a while, almost painfully, like the words are been dragged out of him by force.

That you did it for me? “I suppose not,” Kylo says in a whisper. He can feel his cheeks burning.

“I-” Kylo says, “I'm...”

“I know,” Hux interrupts.

And he's right, Kylo realizes, what's between them, it doesn't need saying.

There's a long moment of silence. Kylo turns to look at the ship controls.

“How do you feel about Tatooine?” he asks, changing the subject.

“My grandfather was born there,” he adds. “He was born a slave. I know there was a time when all he wanted was to end slavery.”

“You want us to become abolitionists?” Hux asks, his tone incredulous.

“It's a gangster-controlled planet in a forgotten corner of the galaxy, a planet we could make our own. We could make a new start. And I… I think I'd like the chance of finishing what Anakin Skywalker started.”

_It would make a nice thank you._

“Overthrowing the Hutts and freeing the population.” Hux is nodding. “We wouldn’t even need an army to gain control then, we'd rule by popular support.” A smile. “I do like a challenge.”

Kylo sends back a shy, delighted smile.

He inserts the coordinates.


End file.
